One thing the organizers do better than anyone is mark the route.
Even though my max heart rate had dropped that morning, Don and I still decided to attempt the 100 mile ride. Sue, Ben, Annie and Mark rode a shorter route, and we were able to meet up with them before and during the ride. Sue pulled the Burley.
Don and I arrived early, had a filling breakfast at the firehouse, registered and picked up t-shirts for everyone. We invaded Don's son's house in Three Oaks (coincidentally also named Don) because the line for the bathroom was 20+ riders deep. Don rode strong for the first 30 miles or so.
It was crowded on the roads. Some riders dropped all pretense at courtesy and rode in the opposite lane, which complicated on-coming traffic dramatically. The organizers had police stationed at busy intersections, though, so we were waved through many stop signs.
It was crowded at the rest stops. At some of them, the food was served inside, and cleats tear up linoleum, so you had to take your shoes off in order to eat. This created problems for Don, who has heel spurs, but the organizers didn't have any answer to that. Starve or suffer... fortunately, he had us with him, so he only had to take his shoes off to register. Last year the potato soup was fantastic, but this year it was awful. Still, there was plenty to eat and it wasn't cold.
We met some riders from Chicago who told us how much they liked the South Haven area, and that they had a vacation home in another small town along Lake Michigan. As they left, I thanked them for spending money in Michigan, and I noticed that most of the riders were from Chicago.
It was crowded at the bathrooms. There were plenty of bathrooms, but the crowd overwhelmed the capacity.
The first rest stop on the 100 mile route was 26 miles away. I drink coffee, and my prostate is approximately the size of a cantaloupe, so I'm never going to last 26 miles without a ... rest. Fortunately, there were plenty of cornfields, with tall concealment for privacy. And no lines!
We weren't the only ones who thought of this.
The country roads were well chosen. The route was different this year than last because the roads near Three Oaks are in bad shape. Basically, the asphalt is there to connect the potholes. Three Oaks itself is in bad shape -- it went bankrupt from incompetent (but apparently not corrupt) politicians and was taken over by the state. It was originally settled by hard working German immigrants, and has a long history of conservative, traditional small town values. The main industry died when, sadly, corsets went out of style and the technically dominating Featherbone company went out of business. Artsy-fartsy urban residents moved in and began to try to change the locals, who just want to buy gas and get to work.
Despite this conflict, you can still get great lunch meat at Dryers, and great ice cream at Oakers: the town itself as a lot to offer.
Our route took us north to Baroda. I know one guy in Baroda, a Mason, and I saw him waiting for a line of us cyclists to pass a stop sign. I don't think he saw me.
After the first long set of hills, Don began to tire.
After the second set of hills, Don got tired AND discouraged. We had been biking well all year, but today was not going well. My theory: he had just been to the heart doctor, and whatever change they made didn't work.
The day wasn't a total loss: we got to meet up with Sue, Ben, Annie and Mark in New Troy.
Ben was wearing his favorite target jersey. I was wearing a seer-sucker cotton shirt over a wool ibex jersey. This was a little warm on the climbs, but comfortable the whole day.
Annie and Mark were lying down just like their uncle Ben.
Look! My Uncle is unconscious!
Ben was tired from staying up all night looking for ghosts.
Annie is tired too. Not really, but Ben made it look so fun.
Now THIS is fun, drinking our cider.
My favorite part of rides like this is seeing the other bikes. I saw one other Sojourn, and a couple of nicely outfitted Surley Long Haul Truckers. I saw an A. Homer Hilson ridden by someone with a Rivendell jersey, which had to be ironic. There was a nice Cannondale city bike -- it had fenders and straight handlebars, and an Electra Townie that I've heard make good commuters. There weren't many Tandems or recumbents, but there were a few. There were a couple of Burleys, but none were as used as ours (two crossings of Michigan, one circumnavigation of Lake Michigan, and several day rides like this one will add some wear and tear). No bike shop can afford to stock all these different kinds of bikes, so seeing them all in action is a lot of fun. There were plenty of retro-downtubeshifting-ten speeds. Or so it seemed.
All in all, it's a great ride and we'll probably do it again. What I'd really like to do is ride it NEXT weekend without the crowd.
PS: I've realized lately that the cows watch us. In town there are cameras everywhere, all channeled to the Government, but in the country we are watched by Cows.
Cows have a meeting, dividing the ride watch among themselves.
Nothing to see here, moooove along.
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